


The Coziest of Lights

by Colourful_skies



Series: Rockbell Lighting 'verse [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Retail, Attempt at Humor, Cozy, Edward Elric Swears, First Impressions, Fluff, Humor, Interior Decorating, Is this crack?, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Slow Burn, hygge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27431668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colourful_skies/pseuds/Colourful_skies
Summary: A busy manager, Roy’s house is as bleak as his mood. Cue a golden-haired lamp designer and the allure of “hygge”. Is Roy opening the door to love, or just an excuse to buy a truckload of cozy lighting?
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Series: Rockbell Lighting 'verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056875
Comments: 29
Kudos: 80





	1. Cold Calling

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first fanfic! I confess I know very little about the insurance or lighting industries, so apologies in advance for my wild creative liberties. In terms of Ed’s many hats at work: I figure he gets treated more casually because of his connection to the Rockbells, in addition to constantly requesting more hours. Similarly, Ed’s not really worried about job security, though he realizes he should at least attempt professionalism. Pinako is probably depicted OOC, but she doesn’t appear in person here. Finally, the FMA characters are not mine; I was also inspired by Meik Wiking’s “The Little Book of Hygge”, which I roughly paraphrased in a few spots (mostly as Roy reads).
> 
> I’m not sure why this premise, of all things, stuck with me long enough to write it, but I hope you enjoy!

Roy hated the beginning of winter.

After the time change, his walk home from work was cloaked in darkness. Was that worth the extra hour of sleep? Roy thought not. To add insult to injury, today the navy dusk pelted cold droplets at him.

Rain made Roy feel useless. Dismal dampness clung to everything it touched, _including my soul_ , he thought privately.

Sometimes Roy wished he could hibernate for the winter, but, well, how would one do that? His employees would notice, and certainly his boss Grumman would.

If he quit his job and went off the grid? Well, maybe... He suspected Maes would notice. Certainly Riza, too. There’d be no fading into obscurity without quitting town entirely. 

He finally arrived home and fumbled with his key until finally the door granted him entry. He entered and closed it with a thud.

Roy threw his bag by the doorway and started heating a freezer meal. He used to have _standards_ (la di dah), used to rejoice in combining ingredients to a unique whole, but he couldn’t muster the energy to do much of anything these days.

Do most people wonder where the vitality of their youth went? Where they went wrong?

Roy’s thoughts took a dark turn. He was successful enough at work, with direct reports and important accounts to his name. But what did it really mean? And why did it feel so flipping empty in this house? Maybe he hadn’t made vice president, yet, but surely the sacrifices were still worth it. Isn’t this what he wanted? No family, but a comfortable middle manager status? Colleagues who trusted him, his own leather couch at home?

He’d just sat down with his soup when the doorbell rang. 

_Who could that possibly be, this late?_ He didn’t have unexpected guests at the best of times, and certainly not at 9 pm on dark and stormy nights (as it were). Roy grumbled to himself and got up to answer it anyway.

He opened the door to the most beautiful, soaked creature he’d ever seen.

"Uh, hello," said the interloper, a young man. His golden hair was striking despite the dim light. It trailed behind him in a braid and framed his face in a way that would be attractive if it wasn’t dripping and plastered to his skin. Against his will, Roy was reminded of an indignant waterlogged cat.

“I guess the rain picked up,” said Roy dryly.

“Well, yes,” said the stranger. “But–” he cleared his throat. “ _Are you looking for more light in your life?_ ”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m Ed Elric, here on behalf of Rockbell Lighting. Days are getting shorter, but our lights still burn bright.” He pointed at the logo on his red jacket with a smile that was more of a grimace.

“Why are they sending a kid like you out in a rainstorm on a Tuesday? Surely there are better times to make a sale?”

The stranger puffed up. “I am not a _kid_. I’ll have you know I’m 22. And month’s end is coming up soon and – well, it’s none of your business, really.” He seemed positively haughty.

Roy felt strangely amused by this display. “Ok, okay. My apologies, Edward. What kind of lights do you sell?”

Ed got back into his stride and pulled a booklet seemingly out of nowhere. Luckily for him, it appeared to be made of water-resistant material.

“This page shows our most popular models.” Photos of lamps were brandished at Roy. “Personally, I like the more antique look over on this page. Or chandeliers – that’s always fun. It all depends on your interests.”

Roy paused. “I mean, I’m not sure I really need a lamp right now.”

“That’s bull – ahem – not fair, though, is it? Everyone could use a pick-me-up, and frankly, the lamp behind you looks like you got it from IKEA ten years ago.” There was a glint of mischief behind Ed’s eyes.

Roy’s face heated. Ok, so he hadn’t paid much attention to interior décor in the past few years. Who has time? It wasn’t like anyone else regularly saw it. Maes had given up bugging him to be more domestic. Nagging was harder to do long-distance, he supposed.

“I’ll think about it.” _Goodbye._ There was a beat of silence.

“No problem, sir.” The fire in Ed’s eyes dimmed and he nodded, turning as if to leave. Roy was suddenly hit with a suspicion.

“Listen – how much longer are you going tonight?”

Ed looked suspicious. “Until I meet quota.”

“And that is?”

“One more sale.” The suspicion gave way to poorly disguised hope.

Resigned, Roy held out his hands and Ed passed over the brochure. He flipped through it until he paused on a page near the end.

“What about this one?” Roy pointed at a table lamp whose base was crafted from wood. Intricate carvings adorned the bottom, and the lampshade appeared rustic. The lamp contrasted with the earlier metallic options.

Ed perked up further. “That’s a model for our more… distinguished clientele. It’s new, and it’s good for all budgets. It’s also extra _hygge_ , I’d say – and if anywhere needs that, it’s here.” He turned up the wattage on his grin, although Roy suspected the last part was a jibe.

Ah, what the heck. It’s not like he splurged much on… anything, really. Quite frankly, this man looked bedraggled enough that Roy wanted to put him out of his misery. He paid up and scheduled a delivery.

As the young man walked away, a question lingered in Roy’s mind. What did _hygge_ mean? And why was he suddenly too embarrassed to ask why he needed it?

* * *

When Ed opened the door to a tired but very fit-looking businessman, he suppressed a groan. In his experience, anyone wearing a suit was not likely to need – or want – more lighting. Most of them enjoyed slamming the door in his face.

But this guy surprised him. He picked the last lamp Ed would have expected, no less.

“Hey, Al,” Ed called out to his brother and housemate, Alphonse, who was sitting on the couch reading.

“Brother, you look like a wet rat. Why are you back so late?”

“Oh, you know how it is.” Ed shook out his hair, disregarding Al’s mild annoyance. Rainwater was clean, anyway. “Door-to-door shift. Pinako was worried about our totals this month, and honestly, we could use the extra for rent right now.”

Al looked thoughtful. Before he could launch into a guiltfest about quitting school, Ed spoke again. “Listen, Al, it’s fine. Finish your degree; we’re still on track with money, and I’m getting great experience in the meantime.”

Al looked skeptical. “Great experience? I thought you wanted to be an engineer or designer, not a door-to-door salesman.”

Ed sat next to Al. “It’s just for now." He looked up at the wooden overhead light. "And I sold one of my carved lamps tonight.”

Al perked up. “Oh, really? I didn’t know they were officially part of the stock yet.”

“Well… Pinako doesn’t think they look professional, or some shit like that. But Winry likes me. She let me add it to the brochure.”

“Is it gracing some cottage in a few days?”

“No, get this – it’s some businessman in Centre Heights. Honestly, for a second I thought he’d be a bastard – _holy_ , I get sworn at out there – but he wasn’t too bad, and he picked _that_ one. Maybe they’ll let me make more.”

Al looked happy for him, ever the loyal supporter. “I hope so. Good luck, brother.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get your hopes up too high. But thanks.”

The interaction replayed in Ed’s mind as he cooked pasta.

* * *

The next day, Roy’s lamp arrived.

He had just dragged himself home (and it was dark out, _again_ ), when he heard heavy knocking.

“Hellooo? Anyone home?”

“One minute,” called Roy as he hurried downstairs.

“Roy… Mustang?” asked the man at the door with a large box. He sported a black ponytail and spiky bangs.

 _I suppose sales people wouldn’t do deliveries_ , thought Roy with a tinge of – surely not disappointment? Run-of-the-mill puzzlement, clearly.

“That’s me,” said Roy, pasting on a smile. “I thought you might knock down the door, for a moment there.”

The deliveryman snorted. “I could have broken in myself in the time it took you to come. But then I wouldn’t have anyone to sign this form.” He held out the delivery slip and a pen.

“Yes, well,” Roy struggled to regain his composure, “my apologies.”

“Hey, it’s no problem.” The deliveryman relaxed, leaning on one hip as Roy dashed off a signature. Roy noticed a nametag on his tunic. _Ling_. “Honestly, it was nice to see this order come in. Ed’s gonna be thrilled someone picked this one.”

Roy’s brow furrowed. “Why this one? He didn’t mention anything when I ordered it.”

Ling’s eyes widened imperceptibly, as if realizing he’d said too much. “Well, he made them, didn’t he?”

“Oh,” said Roy, feeling both impressed and somehow silly for not realizing. “Fair enough. He’s got talent.”

Ling relaxed. “That’s what I keep saying. Pinako should let him make more.” He paused, peering beyond Roy into the doorway. “So you’re all set for this one? Most people don’t need help – you just plug ’em in. I should keep going. Say, are those muffins?” His eyes lit up as they scanned his entryway table.

Roy quirked an eyebrow. “They are… Would you like one?” _We have reached the pinnacle of unconventional tipping._

A minute later, Ling was giving a jaunty wave as he hopped back in the truck, mouth full of muffin, and Roy was alone. With some effort, he closed the door and found a box-cutter to unearth his treasure.

He cut the tape open with a satisfying glide and unfolded the box. On the top was a Rockbell Lighting brochure with a note scrawled onto it.

_Nice to see someone around here has taste. You deserve a lamp from this decade. -Ed (the_ Hygge _Master :P)_

Roy gave the box a disbelieving smile. _Curiouser and curiouser._ What was up with this company?

He could see the top of the beautiful lamp he’d seen in the photo peeking out of the box. _Here we go._

* * *

“Riza, what does _hygge_ mean?”

Riza paused her typing and quirked a smile, looking up at her boss. “On a self-help kick, sir? Or are you finally visiting Copenhagen?”

Roy huffed. “No, really. It’s come to my attention that my house is insufficiently _hygge_ , but I can’t figure out what that means. I must be spelling it wrong.” He paused in thought.

Riza got a sticky note and wrote it out. “Like this. It’s a Danish word that means – well – coziness or hominess, but also has its own cultural meaning.”

Roy’s eyes perked up. “Coziness, huh?”

“They say it’s a big part of why the Danish are so happy, despite their climate.”

“Interesting.” Roy was pensive. “Hey, how do you know so much about this?” Riza was very knowledgeable, but this seemed beyond her usual interests.

Riza smiled again. “I learned recently – Rebecca gifted me a book when she was in town. Still not sure if it was a compliment or insult on my hosting.” She opened a drawer and pulled out a thin tome. “Want to borrow it for a bit?”

Oh, that made sense. “That’s fine–”

“Come on, take it, Roy.” Riza’s eyebrows lifted. “Surely you could use a pick-me-up in this weather.”

Roy wondered how haggard he looked. “Well…” The cover was quite nice with its teacups and candles. God, he could use some tea. “Sure. Why not… learn something new.” He accepted the book, which felt sturdy in his hands. “Thanks, Riza.”

Her face softened. “No problem, sir. Listen, chatting with you is more interesting than my form, but I’d better get back to this before heading out.”

“Right, of course.” Roy’s face flushed. “Sorry to keep you.”

“It’s really fine. But listen,” She paused. “Take care of yourself.”

He nodded to her and left the office, deep in thought.

* * *

On Thursday, Ed was on phone duty.

“Come on, Winry,” he protested, “Couldn’t I clean the shop? Or go out door-to-door again? Phone surveying is the worst. Nobody’s got fuckin’ time for strangers calling them.”

“Ed.” Winry tried to be patient. “This is part of our marketing funnel. You know this. I took this afternoon’s shift, and if one more client swears at me today I will actually throw my wrench at the phone. Or you. Is that what you want?”

“Geez, Winry. Phones have feelings too.” He earned a glower. “Sorry, sorry. Just riling you up, I guess. I’ll do it.”

The cloud over Winry cleared immediately. “Great. Thanks, Ed! You’re the best – don’t forget to lock up when you’re done!” She practically bounced out the door, closing it with a click.

“And this is how I die,” muttered Ed two hours later, alone save for his trusty desk light. Nobody was too irate today, but why didn’t anyone have time to answer his effing questions? It wasn’t his fault he was forced to interrupt their supper or some shit.

Client #20 was Roy Mustang. That name looked familiar.

“Hello?” The voice sounded warm, but tired, like someone who always answered the phone kindly but didn’t have anything left to give today. _Whatever that meant –_ Ed rolled his eyes at his own thoughts.

“Hi Mr. Mustang. This is Ed calling from Rockbell Lighting.” _Perky sales voice is back._

“Roy’s fine.” A pause. Ed registered where he’d heard that voice before. “I got my delivery already. Is everything all right?”

“Yes!” Ed spluttered, more indignantly than he meant. “Ahem. We’re doing a post-service survey. I’d like to ask a couple of questions.”

“Oh.” Roy relaxed. Ed imagined a smile returning. “Well, that’s fine then.”

“Really?” He tried not to let the incredulity bleed through. Hell, Ed was the caller and he wouldn’t have picked up for himself.

“Of course. I’ve got time.”

“Great.” _Pull yourself together_. “Are you satisfied with your Rockbell lamp? On a scale of 1 to 10.”

“Ten,” Roy said confidently. “I need to make the rest of the room deserve it, now. But it’s gorgeous.”

“Great.” Ed felt his face inexplicably heating. “How satisfied were you with the service? Y’know, out of 10?”

“I’d say 9,” said Roy thoughtfully. “The deliverer was friendly, though I’ll take a point off for extorting me for food. But my salesman was perfect. Witty, knowledgeable, determined.”

“Ha, ha,” said Ed drily.

“Seriously, though, Ed, was it you who designed the lamp? It’s beautiful.”

“Fucking Ling,” muttered Ed under his breath. “Yes, I did. Clients aren’t usually told who does which… until you’re popular enough, I guess. But I’m glad someone likes it.”

“Are there other models like this?”

“Not in our brochure, but I have a couple on the go.” Of varying quality. “Come into our store sometime; maybe you’d find something interesting.”

Another pause. “Maybe I will. Thanks. Also, you were right about the _hygge_ my space is sorely lacking.”

“Damn right I was.”

A chuckle rang through the line. “Honestly, talking to you is nice – a little breath of fresh air.”

“ _Who are you calling little_?” So maybe he’s not supposed to screech at customers.

“Oh – I didn’t mean you.” Roy sounded a little shell-shocked. “Sorry. I meant it as a compliment.”

“Whatever.” Ed was done with this day. “Thanks again for your time and your purchase. I’d better go.”

“Of course, of course. Thank you.”

“Bye.” _Click_.

Ed’s heart was pounding and he didn’t understand why. _Finally someone is effing polite. Kind of._ The height thing was a fluke. I mean, he’d had customers nice enough, before, but this guy’s voice was velvety, almost.

Having such a nice voice should be criminal. And the things he said… _“Witty… determined.”_ Did he mean it, or was he just messing with a random to pass the time? Or maybe he was one of those guys who flirts with everyone. By caring at all, Ed was playing with fire. A voice like that might incinerate a friendly local salesperson… I mean, rude. Right?

Wait ’til Al heard about this.

The clock near him had a built-in light (of course). It was time to call it a day.

* * *

Roy hung up with a bemused smile.

He looked over at the lamp one more time. It really was striking. It was carved and etched in fine detail, like someone had cared enough to make it perfect. The nearly hidden parts were equally exquisite. The lampshade was a bit more traditional, but the fabric complemented the shade of wood. In terms of quality, it really did put his older décor to shame.

Roy looked around him then – really looked. When had he updated this place? Before Maes had moved away? The room was dim and plain. _It’s good enough_ , he told himself. But was it? He felt like a mirror of his surroundings. Well-structured, sturdy, but somehow bitterly lacking.

Maybe it was time for a change. And if that included being surrounded by more beautiful things, like this lamp, then so be it.

Roy slid the _Hygge_ book out of his bag, settled in near the light, and began to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the adventure begins! I’ve pre-written most of this (hopefully) and am planning to post about twice a week. Comments are welcome.


	2. Enlightenment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As before, the FMA characters aren’t mine, and my understanding of Hygge is shaped by (and briefly paraphrasing) Meik Wiking’s “The Little Book of Hygge”.
> 
> Roy goes shopping and finds more than he bargains for.

_“Step 1: Lights._

_Strategically fill your space with light. The warmer, the better. Candles are a must, but lamps will do. An assortment of lamps is more_ hyggelig _than a central, overhead light source. No matter what, light is critical to fostering_ hygge _.”_

Roy read the rest of the chapter hungrily. Light, huh? It seemed so intuitive. He was used to keeping on a single bulb, wherever he was sitting, but he never had a strategy. Never anything particularly beautiful. And why shouldn’t his home glow, as the outside world lost its sun earlier and earlier? Maybe it would penetrate the darkness in his soul.

Roy snorted. Yeah, right. And candles? He wasn’t sure he trusted himself around open flame, but perhaps it couldn’t hurt to try.

He picked up the brochure from Rockbell Lighting. They really did have beautiful lights. Most of them were sleek, wearing their metallic accents like armour. However, none really spoke to him like the wooden one sitting next to him already. He sighed. Maybe it was worth going in, after all, to see the full selection.

At least, that was what he would tell himself. He clearly wasn’t hoping to see anything – or anyone – else.

* * *

Next week, Ed finally had time in his workshop to work on his next lamp.

Well, _the_ workshop. Not _his_ : it was communally shared with all the designers. Ed wasn’t technically a full-fledged designer… yet. But they let him use the tools when foot traffic was slow.

The door swung open with a bang.

“Ed-ward,” a voice sung out. “It’s busy today. Come join me on the floor.”

Ed pulled out his pocket watch. The workshop was the shop’s only room without a clock.

“Really, Ling? It’s not even noon. On a Tuesday.”

“Yeah, well, I’m hungry. A man’s got to eat.” Ed huffed. Ling was always taking lunch early (and long). “Winry’s in a call so she can’t cover as planned.” Cue the puppy dog eyes.

“Oh, fine.” Ed rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He started packing up his tools and set the lamp-in-progress aside to his shelf.

“Great!” said Ling with a dazzling grin. “If you hurry, you might catch the cute businessman who’s been wandering around.”

Ed’s stomach dropped for a couple of reasons. “You wandered away from a customer?”

Ling flipped his hand in a _pshaw_ motion. “He turned down my help. _Just looking_ and all that. If you ask me, this guy might be a soft touch. Last week I delivered to him and he gave me fresh baking for the trouble. And he’d bought one of your lamps, too.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“It _is_ him, that posh bastard!” muttered Ed. Ling raised his eyebrows further. “Ling, what did Pinako tell you about mooching food off of customers?”

“If you’re nice enough, they don’t mind.”

“No – cut it out.”

“You’re no fun, Edward. But thanks again for agreeing to cover my lunch. Ciao!” Ed found himself being heralded out the door by a pointy-toothed smile.

“Yeah, yeah. Come back soon. None of this 2-hour lunch shit.”

Despite Ed’s bluster, he didn’t actually mind Ling. He could be frustrating, sure, but he was a good dude, and he made up for his drama in strong sales.

Ed was half-decent at selling, though he got shooed away from the more… demanding clients. _Not enough tact_ or some nonsense. If Ling’s intel was to be trusted, though, this guy was fine. Friendly.

Ed entered the showroom and darted quietly to the cash. As he feared (hoped?), he recognized the head of hair over among the desk lights. The man had said he was fine: it was a built-in excuse to give him some breathing room.

All that was left to do was wait – Ed’s specialty. Clearly.

* * *

As Roy entered the emporium, he felt his jaw drop. Lights were _everywhere_. Tall, spindly floor lamps. Stout little lanterns. Shimmering chandeliers. The store had appeared relatively small – how could so many lights possibly fit here?

He remembered to shut his mouth again. Thankfully, no one noticed him being all undignified-like.

“Well, hello, handsome.” A salesman appeared out of apparently thin air. Roy startled. He recognized him from the delivery – Ling, right?

Roy cleared his throat. “Hello.”

“Welcome to Rockbell Lighting,” said Ling. “I remember you from last week. Looking for anything in particular?” His voice dripped honey, as if lamp shopping was supposed to be seductive.

“No, I’m fine, thanks,” said Roy. He was, in fact, interested in men, but now he just wanted to explore the store in peace. He stood up taller and tried not to let his smile look pained. “Just looking around.”

Ling deflated imperceptibly. “Of course, sir. I’ll be around if you have any questions. Or one of my associates will – it’s lunch time.” Roy could’ve sworn he flounced away. Right.

Given a little more space, Roy perused the shop. For a relatively unassuming exterior, it had enough space for several sections. He spent a moment looking at office lamps. When was the last time he brought anything personal to his office? Maybe a lamp wasn’t the place to start, but still – he sure spent an awful lot of his life there. It could be worth updating.

_“Light transforms spaces into oases of tranquility and focus.”_

Out of the corner of his eye, another section caught Roy’s attention. He strode over to the far corner.

More lamps like his wooden one lined the wall – maybe half a dozen. It wasn’t merely the wood that caught his eye, but the sense of craftsmanship, as if the wood had been eroded by powerful but precise waves. Different figures and scenes lined some of them, like the one engraved with a mountain range. Others were more abstract.

He stepped back and considered the entire section as an entity. Now that his eyes weren’t glued to that one shelf, he noticed others here made of steel, brass, and who knows what. These ones weren’t over with their respective types (desk lamps, floor lamps and so forth), but Roy had his suspicions why. They seemed less classic, less polished, somehow, but leagues more creative. Was that one a _mermaid_ or –

“You found my section.”

Roy startled again. Holy Xerxes, he was losing his survival instincts already.

It was that golden-haired salesman from earlier, looking a lot less bedraggled without the storm. Ridiculously, the image of an angel sprung into Roy’s mind. “Oh, I suppose I did. Edward, right?”

“Ed’s fine,” the man shrugged. “Already looking for a return, Mr. 10/10?” Ed looked embarrassed as soon as his words caught up with his brain.

Roy held back a laugh. “Don’t worry, I’d still give my purchase top marks. But now everything else in my living room lacks in comparison.”

“Is that so?” Recovered, Ed quirked an eyebrow. “And let me guess – is lighting the solution to that problem?”

“You tell me,” said Roy, now properly smiling. “No, but seriously, though – I wondered what the heck ‘ _hygge_ ’ was and looked it up. I agree with you that my space is woefully uncozy, and I heard that _hyggelig_ lights were a promising start.”

“Indeed. You came to the right place.” Ed adopted a certain swagger. “And somehow you found yourself in the corner of Edward Elric designs. You’re man of good taste.”

“I’m surprised it’s not bigger.” Roy hurriedly backtracked before Ed’s eyes popped out of his head. “Ahem – no, no. I mean, Ling mentioned you are still mostly on sales, but you deserve half the floor with these things. They are remarkable pieces of craftmanship.” His finger hovered near what resembled a shining dragon, as if he meant to touch the base but then thought better of it.

Ed’s face stayed impassive, even as it started to match his scarlet work shirt. “Thank you. No one fucking appreciates the weirder stuff,” he adds as a mutter. “This is the specialty area. Most designers tend towards the more _commercially successful_ models,” he continued at normal volume.

“You make that sound like a curse word,” Roy said.

“F- I mean, my apologies, sir. Clearly I am here to sell any of our wares, and not just my corner.” He waved his hand around as if on a game show. “If you need any help with anything at all, your wish is my command.”

“At ease,” said Roy drily. “No, seriously, it’s fine. As much as I appreciate the attempt at impartiality, I was being serious. I like your style the best.” He paused. “What would you recommend? I mean, let’s say you came home and you didn’t have the energy to do _anything_. Your work’s off the rails, your friends don’t have time for you, you make yourself eat some toast. What light would save you – your space?” _Xerxes, shrugging off help to spewing my life’s story in two seconds flat._

Ed looked thoughtful. “I mean, the one you’re looking at is one of my favourites,” he gestured to the dragon. “But I have another one in the back that reminds me of… that. I think it might match your other one better.” He looked up at his customer again. “‘S that all right?”

“Of course,” said Roy. Those eyes felt like they were boring into his soul. He gulped, and Edward Elric speed-walked back to the workshop.

* * *

“Al, I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“Brother, is everything all right?” He heard chatter in the background and realized Al was probably on lunch break.

“Yeah, yeah, I think so. Just feeling a bit lightheaded… and my chest feels weird. Like my blood is pumping double-time. I swear this client bastard is going to give me a heart attack.”

“Is he yelling at you?” Al’s voice sounded worried over the line. Ed needed to snap out of it.

“No, no. That’s the problem. He’s too nice.”

Al snorted.

“No, seriously! He, like, made a beeline for my section, too. He complimented me, but like, not in a creepy way. It’s just like, how am I supposed to bitch about customers when there’s someone out there with perfect hair _and_ teeth and he’s not even unsociable?”

“Let me get this straight. You have a bone to pick with this customer because he’s _too nice and wants to buy your products_?”

“Well… yes, it does sound strange,” grumbled Ed. “Fine. I’d better get back to him. He might get all suspicious.”

“Holy mackerel, Brother, he’s out there waiting for you? Get your butt off this call. Your existential crisis is engaging, but it’s not worth losing your job over.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ed could only stall for so long. One day he wanted to scientifically determine the attention span of the average customer, do testing and the whole shebang, but the whole needing-to-earn-rent thing got in the way.

“Cheers, Brother. Don’t die of kindness. And good hair.” His little brother was laughing at him. The horror.

“Bye, Al.”

Ed hadn’t been lying – there was a lamp here that particularly reminded him of Roy. He finished it last week, so it hadn’t earned a spot in his little reserved showroom section yet. Its base matched the wood of Roy’s earlier purchase, but instead of carved lightning, it was inset with intricate flames. He grabbed it and headed back out.

Roy stood there serenely, looking for all the world as if there wasn’t some twerp wasting his lunch hour.

“Here you go,” said Ed gruffly, handing over the lamp. “This is another option. But you’re obviously welcome to consider whichever.”

The other man appeared transfixed for a moment, then shook it off. “Oh, you’re right. This is exactly what I need.” He looked back up at Ed, who dropped his gaze.

“Great, good stuff.”

There was an awkward pause. _There goes all of my sales training out the window. Rule 1: Keep the client at ease. Holy shit, Ed._

“I’d best be going,” Roy said. “Can I pay by card?”

And so they wrapped up the transaction. Roy turned to leave.

“Good luck with the whole _hygge_ thing,” Ed called out. He was rewarded with a smile and that singed him from the inside out. Who _was_ this guy?

* * *

“You’re in a good mood,” said Riza. She put a report on Roy’s desk. “Something happen at lunch?”

“A man can be happy for no reason,” said Roy, mock-affronted. “Seriously, though, I just went for a walk and did a touch of shopping.”

“Shopping? You?” Riza was skeptical.

“I am pursuing my inner _hygge_ master.” He puffed up his chest. Dropping the act, he grabbed the box and cracked it open to show Riza. “In other words, I realized I should probably own some decent lighting.”

Riza whistled. “This is gorgeous, Roy.”

“I thought so, too. I bought another one earlier this week, so I got this one to match.”

“If you keep this up, I won’t recognize your house next time I visit.”

Riza was his assistant, technically, but over the years they’d become personal friends as well. On the business side, Roy had never had a more capable partner.

Roy smiled back. “Maybe you’re right. You’ll have to come see it sometime… it’s been a while.”

“Let me know, and I’ll be there.”

There was a comfortable pause, then Roy remembered the reason for her visit and put the box away. “Thanks again for the report. I’ll get the answer to you by end of day.”

Riza nodded and left.

For once, Roy actually looked forward to going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On track for two times/week. :) Thanks for reading!


	3. Invitations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic quickly became a monster! I don’t have a specific wordcount in mind, but it looks like it’ll be 6 or 7 chapters. This one is a bit short, but the next will be longer again (and more scandalous).

“ _Step 2: Community_

Hygge _is meant to be experienced with others. Ideally, gather in a small group of close friends or family. Chatting is optional; you don’t need to do anything specific. Let a sense of togetherness permeate the atmosphere.”_

So far, this _hygge_ stuff was working out pretty well for Roy. With the new lamps and a few other touches, he’d made his living room into a proper _hyggekrog_ (roughly “cozy spot”). He even returned to Rockbell to get some fairy lights, like he’d seen in his book. He went on Saturday, so there were no familiar salespeople… not that he was looking. A blonde woman helped him instead.

Roy added a few candles and natural accents to his repertoire, as well, which also served well to spruce up his dining table (if he said so himself).

Beyond the surface, Roy’s kitchen still looked like it was stocked from a dollar store, but that’s fine. It’s not like the room got much of his attention in general. He felt strangely justified in not cooking since his cookware was crap… it would be a shame to lose that excuse.

Settled in his living room nook with a glass of whisky, Roy opened the book once more. The tome had been neglected during the end-of-month rush, but Roy had more time now.

Apparently, the next ingredient to a _hyggelig_ atmosphere was “togetherness”. The quiet happiness of being surrounded by people you loved.

Great. Failure on step two.

It’s not that Roy didn’t like people. Really. He liked his colleagues and trusted them to a fault. It’s just… no one really wanted to know him. Not since Maes moved away. I mean, they thought they did, but they wanted the confident businessman who could take care of them, or the friendly boss who would keep them all on track. They wanted the wit or charm that had inevitably squeezed out of him by end of the day. No one came to his home and saw him when he was spent.

Riza used to, but he hadn’t extended that offer in a long time.

There’s something uniquely lonely about mismatched expectations. Roy valued the esteem he had at work and in his personal life. His performance reviews shone. His direct reports gave him friendly Christmas cards that undergirded a real respect and, dare he say, fondness. He had worked tirelessly for these things, and they gave him satisfaction. And yet.

He was going to need more whisky for this train of thought.

What was he missing? Surely there was more to live than working, sleeping, and polishing a lovely façade? Also: if he didn’t even like the tired, crushed version of Roy underneath, how the hell would other people?

Roy’s phone broke him out of this reverie. He grabbed the receiver.

“Mustang residence.”

“Roy,” said a familiar voice.

“You again.”

“You betcha. Rockbell Lighting, lighting up your world.” The man sounded more animated every time Roy heard him. He wondered if he always turned the sarcasm and glee down 90% for clients.

“Edward. To what do I owe the pleasure?” A Friday night call was a surprise. Not a bad one, but still.

“Christmas is coming, so I took on more hours at work. And what else am I gonna do on a Friday night, anyway?” Ed paused. “Oh shit, you mean what the call’s about. Obviously.”

Roy waited.

“Well,” that salesy perk coming back, “I’d like to ask you a few more questions about your recent lighting purchases.”

“Customer survey, late-night edition?” Roy thought he seemed open to a little ribbing.

“You laugh now, but customer satisfaction is no joking matter. Every time a customer is left dissatisfied, a unicorn somewhere dies a horrible death. And that’s not going so hot. Who knows what species will be targeted next?”

Ed sounded like he was struggling to keep a straight face. Or keep ahold of his wits. Roy raised an eyebrow and didn’t interrupt.

“Seriously, though, Roy, it is such a breath of fresh air to talk to someone that’s not A) hella stuffy or B) wishing my death for disturbing their _evening repose_.”

“You know me, Ed, always willing to share my evening repose.” Roy’s tone lilted far more than he intended and he wished the ground would swallow him whole. _Don’t mind me, just flirting on a Friday night with my favourite telemarketer. So, so normal._

Ed mercifully let it slide. “Listen, I’m almost at my survey quota. I conveniently need three more. Want to review your,” pause, “second, third, and fourth purchases at the magnificent Rockbell Lighting?”

Roy laughed. “If it helps you, sure. You caught me at a good time, anyway.”

They went through the questions, apparently needing to three times to “do it properly”. By the third, Roy was answering with an affected accent and Ed was howling with laughter.

“I didn’t catch that – would you shop again at Rockbell Lighting?”

“Indubitably, kind sir. Nothing would enlighten me more than,” Roy paused with his imaginary monocle, “well, lighting.”

Ed pulled himself together. “All right, you ridiculous bastard. We made it through the surveys.”

Roy arched an eyebrow.

“I mean, not to disrespect a client,” Ed hurried.

“It’s fine,” said Roy, and somehow, it was. He could hear Ed relax.

“Listen, Roy… I won’t rack up your phone bill more. But… would you be interested in a custom piece?” It was a change in tone. _Vulnerable_ , he recognized. “I don’t really get commissions… but I’d like to try.”

Roy paused. “You know what, I’d like that. Someday I’ll be out of rooms that need lighting, but not yet.”

“Do you have anything in mind?”

“Not really. Maybe lighting for a bedroom. Something you think would make me happy,” said Roy. He added a moderate price range. “If you think that’s reasonable, of course.”

“No problem.” The telephone line practically gleamed, like a gossamer thread that connected its interlocutors.

“Hey, Ed?”

“Mhm?”

“This sounds, um, preposterous, maybe –”

“You can spit it out, you know.”

“– but you’re welcome to call me off the clock, too. If you want to.”

“Sorry?”

“Just – if you’re lonely or – agh, forget it.” Roy almost knocked over his glass in his haste to sit up and sound less strangled. “My apologies, not sure what I was thinking. I didn’t mean to overstep… Of course this has no influence on my affinity for your lighting merchandise, I –”

“Sure.” Edward’s response cut through and Roy made himself shut up.

“What?” He blurted before he could stop himself.

“Yeah, maybe I’ll give you a call sometime. I mean, no promises –”

“Of course, of course.”

“– but we’ll see. This was more of a laugh than surveys oughta be.”

“Right. In any case… thanks for calling.”

“‘Night, Roy.”

* * *

Edward started the custom piece on Monday. The first stage was sketching his intended design.

This time, Winry was on shift with him.

“Ooh, what’s that?” She edged closer to see. “Did Pinako let you do more showroom lamps?”

“Not yet,” admitted Ed. “But I got a custom commission for a lamp. Decent money, too. She gave it the go-ahead.”

Winry’s eyes got round. “Custom? But… how, Ed? You’re not listed as a full-time designer yet.”

Ed shifted. “Just a customer that seemed drawn to my corner. He bought one of mine and was interested in a similar piece. Apparently the guy’s decking out his whole house or some shit.”

A spark of mischief lit her face. “A returning client, hmm? It’s not that hottie that Ling mentioned, is it?”

Ed’s face heated again. He’d better get that checked out. Something was wrong with his blood vessels. “What? I dunno… It’s just some client; his name’s Roy Mustang.”

“I knew it!” said Winry. “Ling says he was following you around like a lost puppy.”

“Ling is being stupid,” said Ed. “I helped the guy in-store once. And he bought a lamp on my door-to-door rounds earlier. And… I guess I chatted with him a couple of times for surveys. But it’s all, like, decor-enthusiast stuff. You know.”

“Right,” said Winry unconvincingly. “What did he commission for the lamp?”

“Whatever I thought would make him happy,” admitted Ed. “Ok, so it’s pretty damn vague. But the guy likes my other stuff, so free creative licence.”

“Well, have fun with that. If you’re ever stuck, maybe he’d like some of those little hearts engraved into it?”

“Fuck off, Winry.”

“Love you too!” she chirped, then she headed to resume her sales shift.

* * *

A few blocks away, Roy wanted to pound his forehead into his keyboard.

One of their clients, Youswell Mining, had just submitted a claim that made no sense. Upon digging, it appeared the owner was exploiting his employees and trying to find a loophole for environmental laws. However, if they’re only now noticing fraudulence, who knows what else Youswell might be hiding? Clearly Amestris would turn down the claim, but this was potentially big enough to warrant a tip-off to higher authorities. Time was of the essence if justice was to be served.

By the end of the day, Roy’s team had gathered a water-tight case and forwarded it to the appropriate parties. Fingers crossed. It was later than it should have been, but the atmosphere was joyous and relieved.

Roy looked around the office. Most people had already left (as they should), and his direct reports were just packing up after their win.

“Riza, Kain, Heymans, Jean,” he started. “You know that I usually bring in a few batches of holiday cookies before the break.” The local bakery knew him by name.

His team smiled back at him expectantly, although Heymans looked worried that Roy might cancel dessert.

“Don’t worry, I’ll continue that tradition! But I was wondering – would you also be interested in a holiday get-together at my place? Fully optional, of course,” rushed Roy.

His team grinned back at him, perhaps Riza the brightest. “We’d be delighted, sir.”

“Yeah,” piped up Kain. “I’ve always wondered what your bachelor pad looked like!” Roy smirked.

“I hear it’s well-lit now!” chimed in Heymans.

The team dissolved into giggles.

“Yeah, well, the earlier effort on that front was close to zero,” said Roy. “But listen, I’d be happy to host you all. I’ll send out a group invite, and we’ll confirm a time soon.”

“Sounds good.” “Thanks, boss.”

Roy left the office with two feelings he hadn’t realized he was missing.

Community. Hope.


	4. Tantalizing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently there is a "fancy lighting conference shindig" in town.
> 
> “You actually want me there?” Roy said, still incredulous. “Not some colleague or female friend, but a 30-year-old guy who keeps buying your lamps?”
> 
> “Yeah, why not? Talking to you is a riot. And it’s not a date or some shit, though this crowd wouldn’t look twice at two dudes anyway. No pressure, but think about it,” said Ed, “a chance to eat food, chat up some designers in your new interest, and bask in my sparkling company. Where could you go wrong?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have a longer installment today! All I can say is to buckle in for a wild ride.
> 
> (I added a “light angst” tag; nothing too bad or enduring, but a bit darker than our regularly scheduled fluff. I want to just give them all a hug. Also, wild career hand-waving continues. Bring on the lamp designing glitz.)

_“Step 3: Food and Drink_

_Hearty, rich foods help nourish the soul in a_ hyggelig _way. Think aromatic stews, rich cakes and kagemand pastries. Coffee, mulled wine and hot cocoa are some drinks of choice…”_

Roy’s mouth watered as he read this section. The book’s recipes and full-page photos were not helping. And apparently bread on a stick was a popular Danish snack? Interesting. Roy’s attention was especially drawn to the mulled wine you could make at home. It looked easy, and frankly, it reminded him of Christmas. He could almost smell it now.

He put down the book for a moment and gazed forlornly at his kitchen.

What did he have in the house now? Bananas? Xerxes, he didn’t have much of anything recipe-worthy. He made a mental note to go shopping for more than the basics.

Before he could get up to confirm his (probably tragic) inventory, the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Roy! You like free food, right?” It was Ed. “Doesn’t everyone?”

Roy’s eyebrow raise could probably be heard through the phone. “In principle, I’m a fan,” he ventured.

“Winry’s sick and the others are busy,” said Ed, somewhat petulantly. “Apparently I’m going to this fancy lighting conference shindig all alone. I can’t do it. Networking is terrible, Roy. It’s like sales, but so much worse, because you’re selling polished some idea of yourself. But the food at these things is always great. So.” He paused for breath. “I thought, who do I know who’s charismatic? And my brother, well, maybe, but he’s busy. But what about you?”

“Me?” Roy blinked. “So I’m promoted from client to plus-one, just like that? Isn’t that a little fast?”

Ed paused, and Roy wondered how much forethought had been involved. “Well, it might look a little… huh, I don’t know. But I’m not weirded out by it if you aren’t.”

“You actually want _me_ there?” Roy said, still incredulous. “Not some colleague or female friend, but a 30-year-old guy who keeps buying your lamps?”

“Yeah, why not? Talking to you is a riot. And it’s not a date or some shit, though this crowd wouldn’t look twice at two dudes anyway. No pressure, but think about it,” said Ed, “a chance to eat food, chat up some designers in your new interest, and bask in my sparkling company. Where could you go wrong?” He paused. “Seriously, though, no pressure.”

Roy considered. “Tomorrow night, you said.”

“Yup. 7pm. I’ll bring spare clothes and go right after work.”

“Ah, why not,” conceded Roy. “I have the evening free, and I enjoy your company too.”

Ed whooped.

“Shall we meet outside the store?”

“You betcha,” said Ed. “Don’t forget.”

“Believe me,” said Roy. “That won’t be a problem.”

* * *

“Brother, are you injured?”

“What?” Ed was distracted.

“You’re zoned out in front of the mirror. I promise your face hasn’t changed since last time you checked.”

“Oh. It’s nothing.” Ed hurriedly resumed braiding and tied up his hair.

“Wait a minute.” Al paused in the doorway, his eyes lighting up. “It’s that gala tonight. You’re going after all? I see you’ve laid out extra clothes.”

“Yeah,” said Ed. “Can’t miss the food. ’S always tasty. And Pinako says it ‘looks good’ if I get ‘professional development’ so it’s two birds with one stone, really.”

“Edward Elric putting his professional image first. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Oh, shove off,” said Ed, without any venom. “And you’ve got a fancy night ahead of you too. Let me guess, you’ll be getting ready five hours early?”

Al reddened. “That was one time. I just – there are so many types of tie knots. I didn’t know which would be perfect and I had to test them.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ed left the bathroom and started folding his evening clothes up for transport.

“May and I are going to Brigg’s.” Al’s girlfriend had just returned home from a year abroad, which warranted extra fanciness.

“Ooh.” Ed perked up. “Apparently they’re supposed to be quite good. Exclusive, too.”

“Exactly.” Al puffed up. “I had an _in_. My supervising professor’s sister is the head chef.”

“The scary one?”

Al rolled his eyes. “My scary prof? Yes. Is her sister a scary chef? Supposedly also yes. But I got a reservation.” He did a little victory dance.

“I’m happy for you,” said Ed.

“Speaking of dates,” said Al.

“Not this again –”

“I’m proud of you for going to one of these things alone. Maybe you’ll meet a special someone.”

“Kill me now,” muttered Ed. “I told you, Al, I’m not in any rush. Dating has been a disaster.”

“Maybe you just haven’t met the right one?”

“Have I told you lately you’re a mother hen?” Ed huffed. “And there will be no lonely mingling. I snagged a plus-one.”

“Did you, now.” Al looked torn between skeptical and intrigued. “Who’s the lucky person?”

Ed shifted. “So, don’t freak out, but do you remember that business guy who really liked my lights?”

“The ‘posh bastard who is way too committed to home décor’ you kept ranting about?”

“Maybe I misestimated him. He’s actually pretty nice.”

Al giggled. “Brother!”

“What! It’s not like a proper date. I’m just getting to know an acquaintance better. And using him as a prop so I can snag little sandwiches and pastries.” Ed slung a bag over his shoulder. “He likes lights, so it’s good for him too. Win-win.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Listen, I gotta go. Have fun tonight, eh?”

“You too.” Al’s eyebrows waggled suggestively. Ugh.

Ed shut the door harder than necessary and walked to work. His slightly heavier bag made it hard to forget what was coming later.

 _This might be fun_ , he thought, while cursing the unseasonably warm weather.

* * *

“Roy Mustang leaving before seven,” said Jean. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

The office was about two-thirds empty, but Roy was usually there until the bitter end. He liked to wrap up loose ends each night, and some cases were trickier than others. However, he figured his clients would survive one night without him. Heaven knows he had enough overtime for the year already.

“I’m afraid so,” said Roy, his voice like silk. “I have a prior engagement.”

“Hmm,” said Jean. “Is that a date I hear?”

“N- no.” Roy cleared his throat. “It’s a conference.”

Jean made a “go on” motion and a few other eyes fell upon their conversation.

“There’s a lighting conference in town, and my friend at the lighting store thought of me.”

“I always thought Roy was married to his work,” piped up Heymans, “but maybe now it’s his home décor project.”

Roy levelled Heymans with a glare that chastened him somewhat. “I’m just kidding, boss. But you know what I mean.”

“I think it’s cool,” said Jean. “Is your friend cute?”

“What part of ‘lighting conference’ sounds like a date?” Roy’s patience was wearing thin. “I’m flattered that your leader’s love life is so riveting, but I don’t want to be late.”

“Right, right. Learn lots. See the town.”

“Have fun!” chimed Heymans.

Roy left the office. This was the one downside of warm relationships with his subordinates. How was he supposed to maintain an air of mystique? If they didn’t realize Roy spent most nights alone on his couch, maybe he could keep up “eligible bachelor” vibes. Roy much preferred “fake it ‘til you make it” over pity. Couldn’t he just _quietly_ seek a partner, like a lovelorn ninja, and then succeed and reappear someday with a ring on his finger? Surprise!

 _What am I even thinking? I don’t need romance. My work is meaningful… and stuff._ His scoffing felt hollow even inside his own head.

Was all that true? He pursued justice for his clients, but sometimes his efforts felt insignificant, like a little wall challenging the murky tides of corruption. And why couldn’t he feel at ease with his solitude? Roy was his own person, fortified brick by brick to withstand the elements.

 _We’ll see how everything plays out. Maybe I don’t deserve a_ blissful _life – but I deserve a good one. And that’s what I’ve got. Good enough._

Roy shook his head and lengthened his stride. His mind drifted towards finger sandwiches and golden hair.

* * *

Ed didn’t know what to expect from the evening.

His first clue, perhaps, was Ling’s whistle from the front of the shop.

“Hurry up, lover boy. I see your valiant steed arriving.”

Ed’s face heated. “I told you, it’s not like that. He’s a friend, and we’re going to a fucking conference gala. Geesh, Ling.” He launched his defence with more certainty than he felt. “Just because the guy’s name is Mustang doesn’t mean I’m going to ride him.” He grabbed his bag and rushed out the front door, avoiding Ling’s stupid eyebrow waggles.

“Hello, Edward.” Damn, Roy looked good. He wore a suit, like the other times Ed had seen him, but this one was a deep teal that made his dark eyes look like pools. He wore no tie, with his shirt slightly open at the collar. His ruffled hair looked somehow more intentional than earlier.

 _I hope I’m not underdressed_ , thought Ed, glancing at his scarlet button-up shirt. At least he had fancy shoes. This was about as good as Ed’s look got without borrowing clothes.

“You look stunning,” blurted out Roy, and Ed snorted.

“And the earth is flat. You clean up nice, though, Roy.” Ed was rewarded with a smile. “Shall we get the hobnobbing part over with?”

Roy’s eyes sparkled. The pair set off for the nearby venue, chatting and walking at an easy rhythm.

“Is this the place?” said Roy as they arrived at a grand building. Ed nodded.

The inside was even more splendid, and Ed’s eyes widened despite himself.

“They really went all out,” he said softly.

The event was held in a ballroom that would have served equally well for a wedding reception. Inside the main room, each table was lit by a different hanging lamp that doubled as a daring work of art. For now, most people hovered near the long hors d’oeuvres table and the round cocktail tables in the hallway.

“Elric!” called a friendly voice. Ed’s former colleague, Vato Falman.

“Falman,” said Ed warmly, and the pair shook hands. “Long time no see. How’s up north?”

“Oh, you know.” Vato shrugged. “The work is good; the weather’s freezing cold.” Vato had accepted a job creating specialized lights that could withstand research conditions in the Arctic. “And who’s this?” He looked at Roy.

Right. “Roy Mustang,” said Ed. “He’s from around here too.” Ed struggled with how to introduce the man. “He’s new to the lighting scene.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Roy, also offering a handshake.

Their small talk was paused by a waiter with a plate of champagne glasses, which they all accepted.

“To new connections,” said Vato, with a toasting gesture.

“To opportunities and learning,” chimed Roy.

“To free alcohol and weird-ass light fixtures everywhere,” said Ed.

They looked at him. “What?” He gestured at a particularly abstract one. “You can’t tell me that wasn’t a toaster in another life.”

And so the evening progressed in a flurry of small talk and comestibles. Eventually, everyone sat at their assigned tables and they ate a meal while listening to a lecture.

“This guy is super famous,” whispered Ed through a mouthful of roasted carrot.

“…and that is how I give my designs their trademark strength and sparkle. The combination can do no wrong. It is an Armstrong family secret,” the speaker’s eyes twinkled, “but now I’ve shared it with you.” He bowed, amid polite applause.

“Want to blow this popsicle stand?” Ed murmured in Roy’s ear.

“What?”

“We’ve done our schmoozing and the meal’s done. There’s more lecturing after the break, but I could use some air.”

“Sure.” Roy smiled, and the pair grabbed their coats with an adieu to their immediate neighbours. They went outside and embarked down the street at an easy pace.

“Do you usually leave these things early?”

“Sometimes,” admitted Ed. “It depends. It’s nice to have the choice. Do you ever have a moment where you think, ‘this is great, this is the perfect amount of time, but if I stay too long the moment will be ruined?’”

“I can’t say that I have.” Roy was pensive. “I tend to choose a path and stick with it… even if I should have taken a detour, if I’m being honest.”

The pair continued silently, matching each other’s strides.

“Speaking of honesty,” said Ed, mischief at play in his features. “ _Do_ you think I’m attractive?”

Roy gulped, as if Ed hadn’t noticed his admiring glances all evening. “Yes, I do. Is that all right?”

“How attractive?” Ed pinned him with his eyes. They stopped walking but neither man seemed to notice.

“Truly.” Roy returned the direct gaze. “You think I’m kidding, but I don’t remember meeting anyone as beautiful as you.”

“That’s ’cause you’re old,” said Ed, though it didn’t come out as light-hearted as he intended. “You forget things.”

“I would never forget you.”

With a slow, gossamer touch, Roy ran his fingers through the untied front part of Ed’s hair, and his thumb brushed across Ed’s cheek. Roy’s eyes never left Ed’s face, as if he would stop at the slightest hint of displeasure.

Ed’s mind caught up with him and he mirrored the gesture. Of course, his version was essentially grabbing Roy’s head and leaning in for a kiss.

“Oh,” breathed Roy, and then he kissed back. A minute later, the pair broke apart.

“In case it’s not obvious,” said Ed, who was mysteriously short on breath, “I find you pretty damn fine.”

Roy’s face broke into a grin. “I still don’t understand you, but I will gladly clear my calendar and make it my top priority.”

“You nerd.” They embraced again. “Listen, let’s get somewhere prettier. I want to get to know each other properly, without all the stuffy small talk in the way.”

* * *

Deep in conversation, the pair found their way to a nearby park. They were tired by this point, so they found a clearing atop a hill and sprawled out. It was a clear night, and Ed’s presence felt far more intoxicating than Roy’s earlier glass of champagne.

“Why did you become a lighting designer, Ed?” Roy played with a blade of grass, careful not to pull it out. “Perhaps you finally realized that you’re so bright, so radiant, that it was only fair to share with the rest of us?”

Ed snorted, and then his smile dimmed. “It’s a rougher story than you’d think.”

Roy became more serious again. “No pressure… whatever you’d like to share. It’s all part of the story of Ed.”

Ed looked up at the stars. “My mother Trisha was an artist. Painting, sewing, sculpture, you name it.” He glanced back at Roy. “We didn’t have much growing up, since my bastard of a father left us… but Trisha made sure my brother and I were well cared for. Our home was beautiful, and it always felt safe.”

“Did she encourage you to pursue art as well?”

Ed chuckled bitterly. “In a way. She died.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry, Ed.”

“It was a long time ago.” He stared down at the grass as if it would give him answers. “One day my brother and I woke up to smoke everywhere. I ran upstairs to find her, but I was too late.” He pulled up part of his right sleeve, showing the edge of a large burn scar. “Al was supposed to get to safety, but he followed me too, and the pair of us had to be hospitalized for smoke inhalation. Losing Trisha was… terrible. I felt guilty every day for not being fast enough to save her. But if my little brother died because of me, too, I don’t think I would have ever forgiven myself.”

Roy didn’t know what to say. He realized how very little he knew about Ed beyond the surface. He tentatively offered his hand, and to his slight surprise, the younger man laced their fingers together.

“We learned later that it was faulty wiring.” He grimaced. “Such a shitty way to go. I didn’t want that to happen to anyone else.” Ed fidgeted slightly, as if he intended to drum his fingers and forgot he was holding hands. “Well, I didn’t end up an electrician. But designing lights… it’s inspiring to me. They have to be perfect, technically speaking, but also artistic. People put my work in their homes. If they pick my lamp, it’s like they trust me to make their home beautiful and safe.”

“That’s… rather poetic.” Roy smiled softly. “How did your brother cope with all of this?”

Ed sighed. “It was difficult, for a while. He always had a good attitude, better than mine, but we lost the house after the fire, so it was a struggle to make ends meet.”

“You didn’t have insurance?” Roy winced.

“Worse.” Ed practically bared his teeth. “We had all the insurance we needed. But our insurance company decided it was insurance fraud, a propos of nothing. _Yes, sir, we sabotaged our own wiring so our mother would die._ What a farce. We got nothing, and sure enough, our foreclosed bungalow on Risem Blvd. is now an ugly luxury high-rise.”

Risem? That was prime real estate – the Elrics had certainly been cheated. Roy saw red. “But that doesn’t make any sense,” he said more forcefully than he intended.

Ed huffed. “You’re telling me. So I realized that insurance companies were evil early in life. And we had to make ends meet other ways.”

“Maybe I could look into it.”

Ed looked up, still a bit agitated. “Oh yeah? What do you do? We never really talk about your work.”

Roy grimaced. “That’s because there’s not much to tell. I’m a forensic accounting manager. The field is diverse; I got into it because I wanted to make the world better. More just.” He sighed. “For many people, that’s what it is. And I’m a manager now, so I can’t complain.” Ed watched him inscrutably. “I try to bring my whole self because the work demands precision. And for the smaller companies, it makes a difference.” Roy was always cautious, calling fraud only if he was certain, but the ambiguous cases still kept him up at night. “Unfortunately, most of my cases amount to a small drop in the bucket either way for large corporations. I guess that’s what you get for working at Amestris.”

Ed’s jaw went slack. “Amestris?”

Roy felt his alarm. “Yes, for the past decade or so. Ed?”

“Amestris Insurance?” Ed’s mouth gaped open, until he noticed and snapped it shut. “Fucking hell. I knew you were too perfect.”

“What’s the matter with Amestris?” Roy stared blankly, eyes wide.

Ed looked down like the ground had personally wronged him. “It’s none of your business, really, but they’re the _dogs_ who screwed us over big time. It was your company,” he spat. “ _Of course_ you wouldn’t mention it until now. That’s just my luck.”

“I’m sorry, Ed, I didn’t know,” Roy said quietly. “And I would _never_ intentionally do anything to hurt my clients.”

“Well, you did… or one of your buddies did. It matters fuck-all now.” Ed’s face closed, his eyes cool flint.

There was an uneasy silence.

He spoke again. “Listen, I didn’t mean to make this fucking awkward.” He swallowed. “I hope you’re happy at your job. You’re a great client… I’d forgotten that that’s all this is.”

Roy was reeling. “…What?” he said, the pinnacle of eloquence.

“I’m – I’m sorry. I realize this probably makes no sense,” muttered Ed, “but insurance is a dealbreaker for me. Especially Amestris. There’s too many associations – I just… can’t. And I don’t want that corporate bullshit near Al.”

“I won’t impose myself on you or your family, Ed.” Roy blinked. “I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable in any way.”

Ed stood up, sulking. “You didn’t, not really. I just let myself believe… well, I was stupid.” He looked over at Roy. “I’m sorry too. Feel free to keep shopping at Rockbell. In fact, _please_ do. Drive my commission to the roof. But it’s my bad for forcing this into something else.” His face fell, and he turned his back and strode away.

Roy remained seated, looking up at the stars with unseeing eyes. Gobsmacked – that was the word. His mind kept replaying the evening and what had happened.

Edward Elric was pure, crackling electricity from the heavens. Roy’s hair stood on end, his pride smouldering pitifully. What was it they said about lightning? It could be a lucky omen, or it could be fatal? Shaking his head, Roy dragged himself to his feet. If this bolt struck twice, he wasn’t sure his heart could take it. Only time would tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …So. Are you glad things are speeding up? Did the end make you yell at your device in betrayal? Let me know in the comments! (I promise I won’t make them suffer for too long…)


	5. Saving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a few extra liberties in reinterpreting Wiking’s book chapter this time around, though I aimed to keep the spirit of it. As a bonus, Olivier Armstrong has now entered the chat.

“ _Step 3: Try_ Hygge _on a Budget_

 _Creating a cozy,_ hyggelig _atmosphere may certainly involve shopping, but it is not about consumerism. You can craft your own textiles, bring in greenery from your yard, or remove heavy curtains; even so, none of these is the soul of_ hygge _. To foster the true experience, remember the values beneath the aesthetic._ Hygge _is safety, love, and a comforting sense of home_.”

Roy would have thrown the book at his wall if it hadn’t belonged to Riza. He looked up at his ceiling and sighed loudly.

He liked his softer curtains and the lamps that lit his evenings. Gathering accessories and knick-knacks that looked good together was more fun than he would have thought.

Roy _wasn’t_ all about consumerism, but why did shopping have to be the most actionable item there? _Safety, love, and home._ All splendid and fleeting. He wished he could throw money at his other problems as well and have it be _enough_. (It was very lucky for his wallet that he hadn’t tried.)

He was never safe from himself, but comparatively, his house felt safe to him. He could work with that.

His home was decently comfortable and on the upward swing.

Love… that was the trickiest. Well, what about platonic love? Riza was coming with his colleagues in a few weeks. That would be nice. He should send Maes a message; it had been a while. He was probably overdue for updates about Maes' daughter Elicia, and he knew his friend would happily spam him with photos.

Maybe he should try online dating? Roy reflected. It seemed an impersonal way to meet someone, but perhaps he was being too harsh. Maes’ voice chirped in his head. _You should meet new people! Take a chance!_

Honestly, Roy was still reeling from his last kind-of date. “Sir, you look like you’ve been hit by a truck,” Riza had said. He probably did. It had been almost two weeks… He wondered if there was any hope of closure.

Surely he could spare one more shopping trip.

* * *

The bell chimed as a customer opened the door.

Him again.

It had been a while since Ed had seen Roy, but not a long enough while. Ed took his cue to duck quickly into the workshop.

Winry might judge him for peacing out, but… no. She would understand, and they scheduled two salespeople on Saturdays for a reason. It would be fine. He’d keep busy and just organize his area or something.

“Hello,” said the customer in the other room.

 _Why do bastards have the sexiest voices?_ Ed silently cursed Roy and his particular brand of warm velvet.

“Hi again,” said Winry. She recognized him, but didn’t seem to make the connection with Ed. _The guy must’ve bought more lighting than I realized._

“I… uh… I’d like…”

Ed gave up any pretense of doing anything but eavesdropping. He didn’t think he’d heard Roy run out of words, well, ever.

“…I’d like… that light, please. I think it would look beautiful in my dining room.”

“The Copper Orbs model?” Winry sounded approving. Apparently, this guy literally couldn’t get enough of Ed’s designs, even on the odd occasion they were displayed among other designers’ work. _Fuck._ It would be endearing, under other circumstances.

“Yes, please. Listen, Winry…”

Here it comes.

“I saw this one on an earlier visit… might it be possible to put this under Ed’s referrals? Not that he’d need to know… or if that’s not what’s done, I understand –”

“Oh, that’s totally fine.” Winry cut him off with what sounded like a smile. “He’ll like that another one of his models was sold.”

“…Oh. Go figure.” Roy laughed weakly.

_I gotta get my coworkers to stop hyping my designs so much… They mean well, but customers’re gonna think I have no chill._

“Anyway, thanks,” said Roy, back to business. “I don’t think I’ll need lighting for a while, but I appreciate all your help making my home lovelier.” He cleared his throat. “If you do talk to Ed… I wouldn’t mind a small message passed to him?”

Presumably Winry nodded, so he continued. “I don’t _fully_ understand what happened, but I’m sorry for upsetting him. I’ll give him space, now; I just really wanted to communicate that there’s no hard feelings on my end and I truly wish him all the very best in the future.”

“Sure, no problem.” Ed wished he could parse Winry’s tone.

After a quick goodbye. Ed heard quickly retreating footsteps and the chime of the opening and closing door. He sheepishly walked back to the showroom.

“Ed-ward.” Winry’s eyes were bright. “You did _not_ tell me that customer you’d been flirting with was so _hot!_ ”

Ed’s ears flushed red. “I mean… yeah. Can’t really argue that one.”

Winry’s hands were on her hips. “Tell me, Ed. _Why_ was he not good enough for you?” She paused, sobering slightly. “If he hurt you –”

“God, Winry, no.” Ed cut her off. “Nothing like that. He just… he works in insurance.”

Winry blinked at him. “And…?”

Ed gritted his teeth. “You know this already, Winry. Amestris took everything from Al and I. I can never forgive them for that.”

Winry played with her hair. “Fair enough; that was shitty. But no one’s asking you to forgive Amestris, the company. _Fate_ is asking if you can get past your bias and _maybe_ ,” she grabbed a breath, “love this completely unrelated businessman who’s _clearly_ head-over-heels for you.”

“What?” Ed spluttered. “No way. He’s just suave.”

“Mhm.” Winry looked unimpressed. “Ed, he doesn’t have to be the one for you. But _nobody_ redecorates their entire house by visiting their local lighting shop once a week. And _how many_ surveys had his name next to it?”

“Four,” admitted Ed.

“So you can do whatever you want, Edward Elric. Choose your bliss, yadda yadda. If you’re going to keep this weird vendetta against a whole industry, be my guest.” She stepped closer to Ed and lightly prodded his chest. “But you do _not_ get to say you’re backing off because the guy clearly didn’t care. You should’ve seen him, Ed. He looked like a sad puppy. _A sad puppy, Ed._ ”

“Okay, okay,” said Ed. “I’ll think about it. And I guess you’re right; he cares, all least.” He threw his hands in the air.

“On the plus side,” said Winry, “even if you miraculously get out of this without an improved love life, your sales rates are looking _fine_. Maybe I should find myself a lamp-buying sugar daddy.” She did this ridiculous thing with her eyebrows. Ed was surrounded by eyebrow-waggling fiends.

“Oh, get out of here, Winry.” Tension released, the two of them dissolved into giggles.

* * *

That Monday, Roy set aside his excuses. Too many pieces of Ed’s story didn’t add up, and it was his duty to follow his instincts.

He approached Kain Fuery, who handled their team’s case administration.

“Hey sir,” said Kain. “What have you got for me today?”

“Listen,” said Roy, “you can look up older cases, right? Even if I’m not sure who handled it?”

Kain looked quizzical. “Well, sure. The amount of detail may vary, depending on how old it is. I figure this relates to a current case?”

“Something like that.” Roy leaned in. “I heard a tip that it may have been mismanaged, so I’d like to see the paperwork for myself. Do you think you could keep this on the down-low, for now?”

Kain nodded, and Roy relaxed. He could trust his team. They had the same thirst for justice that he did. He passed a sticky note to Kain and the deed was done.

Under his breath, he whispered a little prayer that the Elric brothers might find justice. Surely whatever deity might be there would listen.

* * *

Roy had just dug into a sandwich when another figure sat down heavily across from him. “Mustang.”

He gulped down his bite and looked up at her. “Olivier Armstrong.” She led Amestris’ People & Culture team.

“I heard through the grapevine that you went to a lighting gala,” said Olivier. “You heard Alex speak? ‘ _These sparkles are the honour of my family bloodline_.’” She did a remarkably apt impression of the lecturer and his flourish.

Roy’s eyes widened. “That’s right.” _Armstrong._ “Is he related to you in some way?”

“My brother,” Olivier said dismissively. “It’s good to see him when he’s in town, but I’d never give him business. Family, right?”

Roy listened, attentive and mystified. He paused his sandwich eating in case a question was thrown at him. “Sure,” he said when she stopped.

“Inconveniently for me, I actually do need lighting,” said Olivier. “Bradley heard somewhere that cutting-edge businesses all have modern, chic offices.” She huffed impatiently. “I said interior design wasn’t my job, but he’s okayed the budget for it.” She looked up at the harsh fluorescent bank lights overhead. “And honestly, this place could stand to look less soulless.”

Roy nodded. He had no idea what this had to do with him.

She looked at him like he was dim. “So obviously I can’t order from Alex,” she said. “But I heard you’ve gotten a couple of gorgeous lamps lately – and apparently grew an interest in lighting overnight. Do you recommend a particular supplier?”

Oh. _Oh._ “I shop at Rockbell Lighting. They have a variety of styles.” Unbidden, he pictured the inside of the store. He made up his mind. “If you’re interested in a particularly cutting-edge look, I’d recommend asking for Edward Elric. He’s an up-and-coming talent. A natural.”

Olivier looked thoughtful. “Good… I will look into it. Appreciated, Mustang.” She tipped her head to him, stood abruptly, and strode off.

Roy returned to his neglected sandwich, staring into space and chewing. He might never cross paths with Ed again, he thought, but the young man deserved all the opportunities he could get.

* * *

“Ed!” Winry sounded excited. “You’ll never guess.”

Ed cocked an eyebrow. He was working on Roy’s custom order. He had opted to craft a metallic ceiling light. It was taking shape, but the etching took a lot of focus. He paused his work.

“Some researcher just made lightbulbs obsolete? We’ll light our homes with cyborg glow worms?”

“No, silly, you got another request for custom work.”

“Really?” Ed’s pulse quickened.

“There’s one thing you… might like less,” tried Winry.

“What.” Ed expected the worst. Maybe somebody needed a series of uber-sexy leather lamps, or alien figures with three boobs. To each their own, but –

“It’s for Amestris Insurance.”

Oh. “You’re right, that sucks.” Then, the obvious struck him. “Was it from Roy?”

“No!” Winry waved the request form in the air. “Well, probably. I expect it’s _indirectly_ from him, at least, if he’s mentioned his gazillion lights to anyone. But the order’s from Olivier Armstrong.”

Ed blinked. “Really? Isn’t she related to that famous designer?”

“Apparently she wanted to buy local. And _don’t_ shunt this to someone else without thinking about it, Ed. Look at that number. They are refurbishing an entire cafeteria and lobby, with room to grow, and they asked for you.”

Ed remembered to keep blinking and breathing like a reasonable human. What a price tag. “That’s… that’s great, Winry.” She smiled at him. “Thanks.” How many months of rent was that? “…I’ll do it.”

When she left, Ed returned to Roy’s lamp with gusto. A smile prodded at him. He knew he _ought_ to hate working with Amestris, but maybe he _had_ cast his net of rage too widely… In any case, the office remodel was bigger than his grudges. They’d requested intricate, modern lighting. He’d pour himself into the work. After they saw what he could do, maybe others would take his designs more seriously?

Above all, he couldn’t wait to tell Al.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Optimistic things are afoot! On Thursday I’ll post the last two parts. Thanks for the comments and kudos so far; y’all are kind. <3
> 
> Real talks: in case anyone’s wondering, I’m not trying to show Edward as “selling out” here or, alternately, needing to make peace with corporations (yikes). He still hates how he was treated and hasn’t forgotten that injustice. In taking this commission, I picture Ed being willing to soften his black-and-white-thinking if it helps him support his brother, and advancing his dream is a nice bonus. This mirrors the shades of grey that he’s been considering earlier in the chapter (thanks, Winry).


	6. Renewal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exciting one-scene chapter! I hope it brings you joy.
> 
> There are no breaks this time, but we get a bit of both characters’ POVs.

_December 10 th_, proclaimed the nearest calendar. The sky was bright, geese _still_ honked out there (the resilient fuckers), and Ed found himself rooted outside an office door.

The door was open, but Roy looked deep in thought, so Ed rapped his knuckles against the doorframe. He held in a laugh at how high the man jumped.

“Edward!” Roy composed himself. “I didn’t expect to see you here. It’s been a while.” He extended a polite, business-like smile.

“Cut the crap,” said Ed. In a rare moment of self-awareness, he pulled the door shut behind him. “I messed up.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Obviously I can be upset with Amestris – that was some traumatic shit. But I realized it wasn’t fair to group _you_ in with Amestris, the company. You, Roy, didn’t do anything wrong.”

Roy cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I appreciate it, Ed, but you don’t owe me –”

“Let me finish.” Ed walked closer to Roy’s desk. “I owe you nothing, sure. Maybe a genuine thank you, because this is the most profitable quarter I have ever had, but personally, I still owe you nothing.” He took a breath. “But that’s what makes it weird. I _miss_ you.”

Roy quirked an eyebrow, shoulders relaxing. “Is that so?”

“Yes, you bastard.” Ed’s bluster had no venom. “We didn’t call back and forth for that long, maybe, but it felt like we had a real connection. I liked seeing you around the store, and you somehow have an aesthetic taste that is literally ‘Edward Elric’s lamps’.” As he stepped closer, Ed’s earnestness bled through the snark. Roy could practically count his eyelashes from this distance. “That night we went out… I don’t think I’ve ever had such a romantic evening, date or not.” He snorted quietly. “And then that shit went down and… I was angry at the world. But it wasn’t your fault.”

Their shared gaze lingered.

“I didn’t mean to rush you,” said Roy gently. “I wanted to spend time with you, but I truly am sorry I brought up a difficult subject –”

“Holy Xerxes, I’m tryn’ta apologize here.” Ed pulled such a dramatic face that both laughed. The mood lightened. “But thanks for sayin’ so, I guess. Whew.” Still standing, he planted his elbows on Roy’s desk.

“And so you’re in my office, monopolizing my desk, because…?”

“Recall two minutes ago: I. Miss. You.”

“Enough to chase me down at work?”

Roy deserved the eyebrows Ed sent his way. “I’m sure your interest in lighting was the only thing that ever brought you to Rockbell?”

“Point taken.”

“In any case, I was here anyway,” said Ed. “In a _remarkable_ coincidence, Amestris hired me for a huge designing contract. This is my last site visit before final installations.” He swallowed. “I thought it’d be a bummer if I visited my least favourite corporation several times and didn’t muster the courage to visit, well, the coolest person there.”

They exchanged playful smiles.

“Ed,” said Roy. “I missed you too. I’m delighted you’re here, even if you’re messing up my paperwork.” He gazed a moment at Ed. “I’d like nothing better than to keep getting to know you, if that’s what you want as well.”

“Now you’re gettin’ it.” Ed’s face was the sun, in brightness and warmth, and he brought it to Roy’s. Cue the eclipse.

Some indeterminate lovely period later, there was a knock. The pair awkwardly broke apart.

“Come in,” said Roy weakly, feeling warm. He ran his hands through his hair in a futile effort to tidy it.

“Sir,” said Riza. She struggled to keep a straight face. “I hate to interrupt when you’re… in a meeting. But I thought you might find this sufficiently important.” She passed a manila envelope to Roy.

“Thank you.” Roy tipped his head and Riza quickly headed out. As the door opened, they could hear what sounded like snickers in the other room.

“Holy shit, they’re gonna realize why I’m here.” Ed’s eyes widened.

Roy laughed. “That ship has definitely sailed… but I don’t mind. This can be my lunch hour.” He licked his lips in a way that was probably intended as seductive, but then his eye was drawn to the envelope again.

Ed snorted. “Hey, if you gotta deal with paperwork or somethin’, I get it.”

Roy looked thoughtful. “If this is what I think it is, you might want to see it too.”

Ed cocked his head.

Roy carefully undid the seal and pulled out the pages. He skimmed the sheaf and held out the second page to Ed.

“A copy of this letter was delivered to your address today.”

Ed started reading, and then looked up, his forehead scrunched. “What _is_ this?”

Roy cleared his throat. “I didn’t really expect to talk to you about this in person,” he admitted. “You’ve always had apt timing.” He shifted his weight on the chair. “Remember how I promised to look into your case?”

“Mhm?” Ed seemed to hold his breath. _Don’t react to the box._

Roy looked downright sheepish. “I hoped you wouldn’t mind if I pulled a few strings, even… after what happened. What happened to you and your brother just didn’t sound right.” He ran his fingers absentmindedly over the other papers, and his gaze sharpened. “It turns out, it wasn’t. This isn’t the first time that Solf Kimblee has managed cases… unusually.”

“Oh yeah?”

“My team dug into it further. It turns out Kimblee shortchanged several customers. Namely making unfair judgements for cases like yours where the clients were struggling and unlikely to sue.” Roy’s distaste was clear. He took a deep breath.

“So what I’m holding is…”

“Your settlement,” said Roy. “Amestris is paying you and Al damages, plus interest.” He cocked a smile and gestured for Ed to flip over the page.

Ed did so and gasped. The number jumped out in bold print.

“You gotta be shitting me.”

“It’s the real deal, Ed. That was supposed to be yours from the start.” Roy’s smile softened at the look on Ed’s face. “Kimblee was fired and Amestris’ upper management is being investigated. But you’re right that Amestris has a truckload of money, so _thankfully_ our policies let us handle settlements first.”

He blinked as Ed launched himself across the desk for a hug.

“Thank you, bastard,” murmured Ed. He wrapped the other man tightly in his arms. He stayed like that for so long that Roy started to think he had always been a beloved burrito. Not a bad life.

Eventually, Roy was released from the blissful death grip, and he immediately missed its warmth. “I’m glad it worked out.” He felt dazed. Seriously, though, how were Ed’s eyes this magnetic?

Those eyes were suspiciously less dry than usual. “So.” Ed cleared his throat. “Where do we go from here?”

“Wherever you want.” Roy smiled gently. “ _As long as_ you remember you don’t owe me –”

“I won’t feel indebted for you being a _really decent_ human being,” interrupted Ed, “as long as _you_ don’t feel indebted for me selling your company the _best lamps ever._ ”

Roy laughed. “I think I could manage that.” He stroked Ed’s hair. “Though I can’t wait to see the lights.”

“So we’re good? Then let’s date. For real this time.”

“Deal.”

“Deal!”

“Supper tonight?” Roy glanced at the clock. “I’ll be off around 7:30 if I get back to work soon.”

“Can’t come soon enough.” Ed’s smile was hungry.

After Ed let himself out, Roy spun around his office in a little victory dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a shorter scene, so I posted the epilogue as well. :) (Apologies if you got two emails.)


	7. Epilogue

_“Step 4: Hygge for the Season_

_A sense of hygge is possible year-round. Imagine lovely picnics and small autumn gatherings. However, hygge is often especially strong around Christmas and the Winter Solstice. As the weather gets increasingly bitter, many people come together with their loved ones, play music, and enjoy food and quality time together. Remember that the coziness of hygge is possible with just you, your candles, and your serene space. However, company helps to foster memories that are ‘merry and bright’.”_

“Can you pass the thyme, Ed?”

“You know I always like passin’ the time with you.”

“Oh, get out of here with that, you little twerp.” Roy waved his chicken-covered hands in Ed’s direction and they both laughed.

An hour later, hands and dishes clean, they stepped back and admired their efforts. For the main course, they’d prepared a roast chicken, herbed vegetables, and scalloped potatoes.

“Holy shit, we actually cooked something fancy,” said Ed.

Roy leaned over to kiss Ed’s cheek. “Yes, we did.”

He stirred the simmering pot of mulled wine and turned down the temperature. Rather than competing, all the aromas blended to smell savoury, sweet, and extraordinarily festive.

“When’re the others coming again? I want to try this stuff.”

Roy smirked. “Short of patience, my dear?”

Ed swatted at him.

“This crowd is usually on time, so it shouldn’t be long now. Riza just texted that she’s en route with pie.” Roy smiled. “I didn’t ask, but I think we may have a few dessert options tonight.”

Ed’s eyes were starry. “That’s what I’m talking about.”

They got caught in each other’s eyes for a moment, soaking the music playing in the background. The song changed and Roy perked up. “I love this one!”

“Holy Xerxes, you _are_ old!”

Roy grabbed Ed’s hands and the pair started dancing. “You didn’t say that last night.”

For once Ed could appreciate the beauty of suggestive eyebrows. He flushed.

_Ding-dong!_

“I hope they like it,” muttered Roy.

“Hey,” said Ed, catching Roy’s shoulders before he could dash for the door. “They’ll love it. This place is great. _You’re_ great. They usually tolerate your company just fine, and _this_ time you’re serving them food.” He leaned over and brushed their noses together.

“Thanks, my dear.” Roy’s gaze softened, but he couldn’t fully forget the door. “Coming!”

It was an excellent evening. Roy’s colleagues (and dates) “ooh”ed and “ahh”ed the house, which humoured Roy, but it quickly became a warm backdrop for conversation and sharing delicious food together.

Eventually, they all found themselves playing charades in the living room, most of them tipsy off mulled wine and company.

This round, they were guessing characters (real and fictional).

Heymans crouched down and bugged out his eyes menacingly, grasping at the air.

“The Dwarf in the Flask!”

Now Roy could see it. He had to chuckle; he hadn’t seen that movie for ages, but the character looked very different with a physical flask. It was hard to look intimidating mid-mime.

Riza went next. She strode in confidently, mimed unhappily doing paperwork on the coffee table, and then looked over to bat her eyelashes at Ed.

“Roy Mustang!”

The aforementioned man buried his face, though a smile peeked through.

It was Ed’s turn. He puffed himself and lumbered around like a much larger man (or creature), throwing invisible things around and pausing to yawn.

Roy knew this one. “Sloth!” Another character from “The Promised Day”. It was hard to believe the film had come out over ten years ago.

That meant it was his turn. He struggled to suppress his grin after drawing the slip of paper.

Roy carefully brushed his hair back, miming a braid, and stood on his knees. He carved an invisible lamp and then paused to throw a tantrum.

“Edward Elric” was called out in record time.

“Why, you –! Who are you calling little?!” And they were all cackling again.

Before they hardly realized it, the evening had passed and it was time to leave. Roy sent home little bags of chocolates and treats (gluten-free for Kain) with each of his guests.

(“Do you think it’s too much? I feel like I’m making little birthday grab bags.”

“It’s chocolate! Who doesn’t like chocolate?” So here they were.)

Clustered around the door, everyone said their goodbyes and shared good wishes for the holidays.

Riza and her date Rebecca left last. The pair put on their coats and gloves. Riza’s bag was one pie lighter, but it now held the _Hygge_ book (which Roy had appreciatively returned).

Before leaving, Riza shook hands with Ed and pulled Roy in for a hug. “I’m proud of you,” she said. She smiled. “It was a lovely evening. Thank you, both of you, for hosting.”

“It was our pleasure.” Roy returned the smile. “We should bring back board game nights sometime.”

“Let’s.”

“Y’all know I would crush you,” scoffed Ed with a grin.

And then there were two. Roy locked the door and the duo sunk back into the squishy couch.

“Your commissioned lamp is ready now, you know.”

Roy’s eyes lit up. “Is it, now?”

“It will be, if you grab some whisky and relax for maybe ten minutes while I install it.”

“Mm, tough sell, but I could do that.”

Ed grabbed a large box from – was that in Roy’s closet? And he returned ten minutes later smiling timidly. “So… yeah?”

“It is time?” Roy stood dramatically.

“Gee, I dunno if it’s all that, I just figured it’d be fun to show you in time for Christmas.”

Roy wrapped him in a hug. “I love it already and I haven’t even seen it yet.”

Ed relaxed and laughed, sticking his tongue out for a moment. “You’re just a soft touch.”

“You certainly seem to make me turn to butter.” Roy played with Ed’s hair.

“Aww, get out of here,” said Ed, but he leaned into the embrace.

“I must admit, though, I am curious what my new favourite lamp looks like.”

“You know what they say about curiosity.” Ed

“That’s for cats, Edward. Do I look like a cat to you?”

“Hmm.” Ed pulled back to appraise him. “Soft hair? Hates water? Determined to sleep on laps and _my_ side of the bed?”

“I do not –”

“Sharp teeth? Portable?”

“Wha –”

In a surprising show of strength, Ed picked up Roy in a bridal carry and began to walk.

Roy’s eyes widened. “ _Literally_ how –”

Ed looked down with a manic grin. “I may be on the… shorter side…” – oh, what it cost him to admit this – “but I work with metals and heavy tools, and you better believe I do fitness training.” Holy Xerxes, they were ascending the stairs. Roy feared for his life, although he could tell Ed wasn’t bluffing from the ripple of muscles. “There.” Ed deposited Roy outside the bedroom with a little bow.

Roy curtsied. “Thank you, monsieur.”

“Just… go look at the light and tell me you don’t hate it. Or do – I can change it.”

Roy interlaced his fingers with Ed’s and walked in.

Roy’s jaw dropped.

The ceiling light emitted a warm glow. However, his eyes were drawn to the structure itself; the metal was inlaid with dozens of interconnected lines, like rivers of gold. If you stood directly beneath it and looked up, the lines formed a large circle enclosing several interlocking triangles. The geometry of it was balanced by a salamander on one end and a small stylized flame on the other. The combination felt precise and symmetrical, rather than random. The light commanded the room, but only when you specifically looked at it.

“I call it ‘Fire Array’,” said Ed, softly. “Don’t stare at it directly too long; you’re gonna hurt your eyes.”

Tearing his eyes away from the lamp itself, Roy registered how the design projected wavy shadows onto the ceiling. Similar to the metallic etching itself, the effect was subtle but striking as you noticed it.

“I’ve played with similar geometric designs,” said Ed, “but this one called to me for you. It’s… strong. I wanted to make your space warm, and not totally take it over, but… well, it’s one more captivating thing to look at.” He swallowed. “Obviously, you’re, like, the most captivating sight here, but I figured you’re not gonna look at yourse–”

Roy interrupted his ramble with a soft kiss.

Apparently this was the correct answer. “So you do like it?” Ed beamed.

“It’s stunning,” said Roy. “This must have taken ages.”

Ed shrugged. “I had the time.”

The pair clasped hands. They would exchange gifts the next morning. As a commission, this wasn’t strictly a gift, but it certainly felt like one. Roy entwined his fingers with Ed’s.

“This is the best Christmas.”

“Mmm. I agree… at least until next year.”

“Planning to stick around?” Roy lined Ed’s jaw with little kisses.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Ed shifted so that their lips met, and the pair tumbled over onto the bed.

Roy had always liked his bedroom, but it was now leaps and bounds cozier.

The future was bright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for joining me on this journey! :) Feedback is welcome. If you enjoyed this, consider subscribing; I’ll be posting a few more fics with this duo for RoyEd Week soon. I hope you find some “hygge” and encouragement this winter.


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